


Gimme a Break!

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Matchmaking, Military leave, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 02:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: She never takes any time off, but when she’s ordered out of Fort Briggs and into a hotel at North City, she realizes maybe she needed the break after all.





	

“I don’t need any furlough time,” she growled.  
  
“It’s been over two years, General,” Führer Grumman replied firmly.  “No commander worth his salt goes that long without a break.  You’ve more than earned it, and as you’re so proud of reminding everyone, your men are as efficient in your absence as in your presence.  Take a damn week off and relax for a little while.”  
  
Olivier snarled as she kicked her wastebasket across the room.  “I don’t want to take a week!”  
  
The old man on the other end of the line laughed.  “You’re as dedicated as your father was.  Fine, three days then.”  
  
She sighed.  Three days was better than seven.  Then she felt her ire rise again-  
  
“And get out of that fortress.  North City’s nice in the spring.  Get out among some new faces for a while.”  Some papers rustled in the background.  “I’m ordering your men to escort you to the gate at 0900 tomorrow morning.  I’ll get my secretary to set you up with some nice accommodations.  You should take some pictures!”  
  
She let out a frustrated yell and slammed the phone down, then stomped angrily to her quarters, where she packed what little civilian clothing she had, thanks to her mother’s care packages.  One sleeping pill and half a chapter of an adventure novel later, she was sound asleep and ready to get it all over with.  
  
At 0700, she was briefing her second in command about her expectations while she was gone, and as expected, two Sergeants escorted her and her bags to the gate at 0900.  A tank drove her down to the road, actually visible in the warmed spring morning.  From there a cab delivered her safely to North City, vibrant and budding green and not at all the stark gray she was accustomed to.  
  
Olivier already had a headache.  She took her bags herself up to the room the key fob matched.  But when she opened the door, she was very surprised to find it was already occupied.  
  
“Sir?” Maj. Miles said, looking as stunned as she was to find they were both at the same hotel- and apparently the same room.  
  
Not one to give away her true emotions, she huffed and threw her luggage into the room.  “Let me guess, Grumman ordered you up here.”  
  
“I take it he ordered you here as well?” he asked.  
  
She didn’t answer him only sat down on the bed and rubbed at her temples.  She looked over at him.  He looked different in civilian clothes, almost like a stranger.  She missed the familiarity of his uniform and felt nauseous at this weird version of him.  
  
He sat down beside her.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll get them to bring up a cot.  You can have the bed-”  
  
“Why does he feel the need to play matchmaker?” she barked out.  “It’s bad enough when everyone at the base just whispered it, but for him to try to _force_ us together-  It’s not appropriate!”  
  
He smiled and walked over to where his suitcase sat open in the chair.  He tugged out a clay bottle and uncorked it, then returned to her side.  “Here, have a drink.”  
  
Olivier took the bottle and smelled its contents.  “What is it?”  
  
“Araq.  It’s a desert wine, try it.”  
  
She took a pull and licked her lips.  “Tastes like licorice.”  She took another swig and handed the bottle back to him.  She could already feel the wine going to work.  “Stronger than I expected.”  
  
“The Ishvalans tell me it’s best enjoyed over ice and mixed with a bit of water.  Otherwise you could have too much too quickly.”  He took a swallow for himself and passed it back to her.  “You know, I asked to come here.  I miss the cold much more than I anticipated.”  He looked away from her.  “Missed you, too…”  
  
“Tch,” she hissed as she took the bottle to her lips again.  “You’re as bad as Grumman.”  
  
“He’s going to change the frat regs, you know.  He’s practically planning Mustang’s wedding to Capt. Hawkeye.”  
  
“Sounds like _you’re_ planning _ours_.”  
  
When he didn’t deny it, she shook her head and laughed to herself.  “Miles, wouldn’t you rather have a sweeter woman?  Maybe someone from Ishval?  In case you forgot, we’re not exactly right around the corner from each other.”  
  
“No, we’re not,” he relented, snaking an arm around her back.  “But I don’t want anyone else and we’re here together right now.  And if you’d agreed to a week instead of three days, we could be together a little longer.”  
  
She leaned into his loose embrace and took an irritated breath.  Her hand moved to rest on his knee, covered in a twill fabric that was too thin and too brown for her liking.  “I like you better in uniform.”  
  
“My desert uniform is nothing like my Briggs uniform.  I don’t think you’d like it much.”  He squeezed her and kissed the top of her head.  “Should I still call down for that cot?”  
  
“Of course not,” she said, relaxing enough at last to get rid of her headache.  “But you can call Grumman and tell him I’ll take that week off after all.”


End file.
